SOUNDING
THE
DEEP Words by Nigel Morgan & Phil Legard,
From the book ‘Half Mile Down’, by William Beebe.
THE
WONDERER
I
II
I saw an expression on the face of a man, sculptured in bronze, With two flints he has struck a spark. He struggles to wonder. He knows he is wondering This is something wholly new.
Circling the planet from west to east, I only gained a day.
So the First Wonderer begins to creep, and to know that he’s creeping, farther and farther, from the home cave, across the flat earth, over the next horizon, coming to consciousness, beginning to know that he knew.
Daring the jungles I found their perils Fire-side imaginings. But adventuring under sea: This is an unearthly experience. When I put on the helmet, Descend to the white coral sand, To temperate tapestries and portieres of seaweed. And wander at will the reefs of tropical shores, it seems as if I am returning — not venturing. But adventuring under sea: Such an unearthly experience. Are we content to look beneath the surface? Shall we descend? Sixty, eighty . . . One hundred . . . Three hundred feet . . . A half mile down?
KINGDOM OF THE HELMET I Just below the surface, I found a new world. Just a bathing suit, rubber-soled shoes a glass-fronted helmet, a hand pump and hose: There’s no practice required for this new phase of life. And down you go into two, four, six, eight fathoms, swallowing as you descend: to offset the pressure. Submerged, I can leap twelve feet; (I can) lift a companion with the crook of my finger; Falling from a coral cliff, I drift, downwards, in slow-motion.
If you wish to paint, weight your easel with lead, And brush away the inchlings from time to time. If you incline to sport, shoot the fish you wish with barbed arrows of brass. In the grotto of a reef, plant a sunken garden, With waving purple plumes Welcome! Welcome to the Kingdom! Welcome to the Kingdom of the Helmet: Such indescribable riches . . .
II Off Hawaii, a forest of animal plants: thousands of architects happy at home in horny branches and marble monoliths. On the black lava shores of Islas Galápagos the venamous octopus slides from its cave, changes its colour from yellow to blue Such increase of life, such brilliancy of colour, And the joy of it all: Everything that moves has no fear of us. We’re not afraid, We are made to feel at home — returning natives, not intruding strangers. Natives not strangers, And oh, the joy of it all.
THE BIRTH OF THE BATHYSPHERE I Sixty feet below, the clear waters of Haiti, balanced on a precipice, I looked down into a world as unknown as Venus or Mars. Unwise to descend, for double this depth is a no-man’s zone.
II Then I remembered an evening with Teddy (Roosevelt that is). We’d discussed some ways of diving deep. On a smudged piece of paper I drew a cylinder; he drew a sphere.
In nature I found other divers: the whirligig beetle, with its bubble of air; the rat-tailed maggot and its telescopic tail; the silken bells of the water spiders, beside which man is a poor imitation . . .
There is nothing like a ball for even distribution of pressure . . .
Then I found (and introducing to you) Mister Otis Barton:
This sphere idea took form and grew.
He shared my dream to design a sphere: large enough, strong enough to keep men alive. To descend to the depths, make a safe return in the cabin of a Bathysphere.
III Three windows of quartz, A fourteen-inch ‘door’, ten bolts set against the terrifying pressure, it was cast in steel to weigh five-thousand pounds, lowered by a cable three-thousand feet long, cables for light, cables for air, cables for a telephone too. So we shared our dreams and designed a sphere: large enough, strong enough to keep men alive, to descend to the depths, make a safe return in the cabin of a Bathysphere.
A tug and a barge with twenty six crew, A prayer for fine weather, And the hope of seeing down below a brave new world, And make a safe return In the cabin of a Bathysphere. So we shared our dreams and designed a sphere: large enough, strong enough to keep men alive, to descend to the depths, make a safe return in the round steel Bathysphere.
DESCENT INTO PERPETUAL NIGHT Italics – sung / plain text – spoken. Depth readings spoken by hidden voice or displayed on a screen.
We have just splashed below the surface. 60 feet
We are at our deepest helmet dive.
285 feet
The Lusitania rests at this level.
306 feet
The greatest depth reached by Navy divers.
383 feet
We are passing the submarine record.
400 feet
The Egypt was found at this level by divers in rigid shells.
525 feet
The deepest point which a live human has ever reached.
600 feet
Only dead men have sunk so deep.
670 feet
A door closes on the upper world. There is no green in our new cosmos: Only a dark, yet luminous blue. I take up my position at the window.
725 feet
A pair of dark-banded Seriola hang around for a minute or more.
1000 feet
The light becomes ever more dim. Here we hang adapting to the blue-black gloom. Round-mouth fishes: the Cyclothones.
1426 feet
I sense the passing of numberless beings: Deep-sea eels appear: slender, silvery creatures, long jaws and sharp teeth. We are still alive and one-quarter mile down.
1500 feet
A large fish has swung into the beam: I saw it was something unknown. It was a color worthy of these depths, From deep in the abyss it swam with ghostly sails. I have called the fish the Pallid Sailfin.
1650 feet
Lanternfish pass my window, their pale green lights exceedingly bright.
1700 feet
As black as Hades. All outside is black, black, black: For two billion years no day or night, No summer or winter, no passing of time until we came.
1900 feet
It is not only blacker —but a tangible, and complete dark.
1825 feet
Coiled pteropods by the dozen, hatchet-fish illuminated by each other. And now a school of large squids: Their great eyes stare in at me, circled with coloured lights.
1950 feet
Our first bad pitching. The worst fright of the dive. Have we had broken loose? Are we turning over?
2100 feet
The walls are running with condensation. The Bathysphere is rolling badly, Chemicals are spilling off the racks,
And then‌ the most exciting experience of the dive! Two fish went very slowly by. The shape of large barracudas, six feet in length. Large eyes and undershot jaws, armed with illumined fangs. 2300 feet
Sternoptyx, the skeleton-fish; and a fish as flat as a moon-fish. entered the beam, then fled in haste.
2500 feet
A complete, shadow-contour: Twenty feet in length at least, and as deep in proportion. I could not see an eye or fin.
3000 feet
Now we come to rest The cable on the winch is near its end.
HALF
MILE
DOWN
I In the blackness of ocean's depths In the unchanging age of my surroundings I have never felt so completely isolated. All future nights in the upper world will be forever twilight. I shall never again use the word ‘black’ with any conviction.
II So many more mysteries below: It leaves the mind in a maze of wonder. And as for comparisons: The eternal one is naked space itself. Beyond atmosphere, and between the stars, where sunlight has no grip, the shining heavenly world is surely akin to a life in the open ocean, a half mile down.
SOUNDING Sounding the Deep is the title of a large-scale project devised to celebrate the city of Hull’s signature Millennium building, The Deep submarium. The project will take place in 2012, the year of the UK’s Cultural Olympiad, and provide the city of Hull with a special event that brings together music, the history of the exploration of the ocean depths, and opportunities for participation by youth ensembles in the region. Sounding the Deep is an initiative developed by Hull Philharmonic Orchestra with the composer Nigel Morgan. It will culminate on the 17th of March 2012 in a unique concert at Hull City Hall. A new work for bass voice and symphony orchestra will be performed twice by the Hull Philharmonic Orchestra, with students from Hull, East Riding and Lincolnshire making up the programme with the premiere of six new works composed specially for this event. Taking the deep oceans as his overall theme Nigel Morgan discovered the story of the ocean descents made by the remarkable explorer and zoologist William Beebe in the 1930s. The David Attenborough of his day, friend of presidents and movie stars, Beebe was a best selling author and lecturer. His inspirational book Half Mile Down describes his record-breaking descents off Nonesuch Island in the Bermudas. Nigel has fashioned four poetic elaborations from Beebe’s writing including part of the transcript from his
THE
DEEP
national radio live broadcast of his recordbreaking descent. The new score called Sounding the Deep is in four movements of symphonic proportions. It is interspersed with settings of poems about the deep oceans by Robert Francis, Kipling and Whitman. It is to begin and end ‘above the surface’ with short elaborate collages devised from the repertoire of music about the sea. The music then gradually descends below the waves to explore a new and different world of sound: a sonic experience rarely featured in the current repertoire of orchestral music associated with the sea. This provides a backdrop for a bass soloist who is imagined as William Beebe himself giving one of his famous public lectures. Beebe explains the wonder and significance of underwater exploration, relates his own initiation into the kingdom of the diving helmet amongst the coral reefs in the Galapagos and Haiti, and finally shares his experience of diving to the depth of a half mile down in a specially designed bathysphere. The next 12 months sees both Richard Branson’s Deep Flight Challenger and film director James Cameron’s recreation of Piccard’s Trieste set to explore the Mariana Trench, eleven miles down. Sounding the Deep really couldn’t be more topical!
www.soundingthedeep.co.uk www.nigel-morgan.co.uk